The World Can Be a Dark, Dark Place
by AbyssQueen
Summary: dark!Hetalia oneshots... Just awesome Hetalia tradgedies. C; Rated T for now, may be moved to M in future.
1. Can You Hear Me Now?

**A/N: Okay, so this is going to be a series of dark!Hetalia oneshots... Most of which will be about America. OTL However, this one happens to be about Canada.**** Please ignore how bad & overdone this one is ;A; The others I have planned are MUCH better. Like the next one... OH HO HO, THE NEXT ONE... C:=**

**I apologize for fail expression of accents ._. And for Google Translate fails... I TRIED. ;A;**

**This is placed during the Great Depression (June 1933, during the "London Monetary and Economic Conference" [G20 in London :P], to be exact ._.) I guess, and quite a bit of it is actually VERY historically accurate ^~^ (I am so proud of mahself~)  
>...But some of it isn't.<br>You'll know what I mean after you read it/reading the first sentence.**

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><p><strong>Can You Hear Me Now?<strong>

* * *

><p>Canada shivered with the feel of the cold steel in his hand, but his lip quivered with his thoughts.<p>

"I don't think I can do this..." he whispered.

"Who're you?" the little bear Kumajiro asked.

"I'm Canada!" A bit of anger warmed his face at his own pet's lack of knowing his name, though he himself didn't know the bear's. But at least he tried. After all, it was why he was here, really. It certainly wasn't to be ignored again.

_This time, they'll listen... Or else. This time I need them to, so they will. I won't even have to use the gun; just the threat of it'll work. It'll be okay; no one will die today. Right? Right!_

Canada comforted himself with his thoughts as he entered the world meeting room for this year's G20 Summit. It was in England this year.

"Mattieu!" France greeted him as soon as he entered the room, and Canada, grateful, sighed in relief.

_See? Today's different. I'll be able to speak my mind without violence._

"You look thin! Eat more," France said, "Or you'll nevar get notized by ze ladies!" He winked, and Canada blushed slightly, but he was used to his _Papa_ being this way.

"Papa, I-"

"There's le Angleterre! His awful cooking almozt made me puke! Thoz things, ze 'scones', zey should be classified as lethal weapons!" Canada sighed as France ranted as he ran off towards England, no doubt to badger him.

_Well, that's just Papa. He'll do anything to piss off Iggy. He still noticed me; it'll still be okay..._

Canada took his seat as the other present countries began to make their way towards their seats, though the constant chatter didn't cease. After about ten minutes, he braced himself for the inevitable.

"GOTTVERDAMMT! ALL OV YOU, SHUT THE HELL UP FOR VUNCE! I SHOULD THINK THAT BY NOW, I VOULDN'T HAVE TO DO THIS, BUT YOU ALL NEVER LEARN! WE ARE NATIONS, VE SHOULD BE ABUV THIS! BUT SINCE IT SEEMS THAT **I** AM THE ONLY VUN HERE THAT CAN BE MATURE, **I'M** GOING TO LAY DOWN THE RULES! Now, iv you vant to speak, raise your hand. You vill hav five minutes, maximum, to argue your point, and no more!"

Canada tentatively raised his hand, but he felt slightly put off when he was ignored, his brother once again outshining him.

"Yes, America," Germany sighed, sitting back down.

"Um, guys, I'm in a _really_ bad situation at the moment... Economically... And, as you know, I've already raised tariffs on imports..."

Canada clenched the hand grip of the gun in his pocket. The quiet country raised his other arm higher, hoping to be noticed, but he was still ignored. _What, he thinks he's the only one who's in trouble? Papa's wearing less expensive clothes, Germany's still using his tattered uniform from the World War, Iggy's having to work off his debt to America... And I'm here, starving to death! He's not the only one with problems, and practically cutting off trade with the rest of the world doesn't help anyone! _He fingered the gun in his pocket, loosening his white-knuckle grip, knowing he had the solution for America's complaining. _But it won't come to that._

"The rest of us aren't doing well either, you moronic wanker! Why don't you think about someone other than yourself for once!"

"Hey, man, you owe me money!"

"Well I'm just as bad off as you; I don't have any money to give you!"

"Britain, I sti-"

"Well, Angelterre, if you owe ze Amérique money, you should pay him back~" France smirked.

"THE Amérique? !" America looked offended, but he was ignored.

_About time._

"Stay out of this, French twit! Besides, Germany owes him money as well! Go bother him! At least maybe then you'll get some sense knocked into you!"

Germany growled, his hot temper again being fed by the other countries, and turned to Japan. Canada overheard something about leaving the League of Nations, and Japan was nodding. Japan had already sent notice that after the Economic Conference, he was going to be leaving the League.

_It's because they both know nothing gets done at these damned things..._

"I need money, guys, and you owe me. A lot. And France, you've got war debts to pay; just like England." America, serious for once, sighed.

"Well none of uz have any money!"

"Exactly my point, dumbass!" America yelled, exasperated.

Canada attempted to make eye contact with a few of the quieter countries like Japan, Greece, Estonia, etc., but they were all focused on the fights going on around them.

His _Papa,_ his brother, and his 'mama' were fighting... Cuba was too distracted with throwing names and accusations at America to notice him... Insults were flying, and Canada took offence as if they were being aimed at him. Here he was, with an actual, current, dyer-need problem, and they were fighting over ancient rivalries. Germany was about to explode again, but Canada beat him to the punch.

Before he could rationalize a thought he had pulled the loaded gun from his pocket, shut the safety off, and cocked it.

"MON DIEU, TOUT LE MONDE, FERME TA GUEULE!"

Suddenly, all eyes were on him; some wide and fearing, others just surprised.

"Thank you, I-"

Italy leaned over towards Germany and whispered to him fearfully, though the pair were close enough to Canada that he could hear him. "Who's that?"

"I'm Canada!" the unusually loud country roared, then continued in a quieter, wavering voice, though it still commanded attention. To Canada, even though he knew it was an awful thing he was doing, it felt good. It felt good to let go of everything that had built up over the years and finally be noticed. His hand holding the gun shook, but it didn't stop him. "And all I want right now is your attention..." He took a deep breath, loosening his grip on the trigger. "Look, I'm starving, I just need a little help, even just a thousand dollars would be enough... I know all of you are suffering as well, but maybe if we all just work together for once, we-"

"Bro, I dunno about the rest of these losers, but I've got my own shit, I can't take care of... Canwhatshisface's."

Canada jerked around to face his brother, rage clear in his voice. "MY NAME IS CANADIA!"

Above his own voice, though, another sound was to be heard; the loud _bang_ of a gunshot The blue-eyed nation's eyes widened ad America's shirt grew dark with blood.

Canada stared, shocked, at his brother's body as many countries, England being the first, ran to the now-dead nation.

"A-Alfred..."

He lowered his head in grief. His voice was shaking, as was the rest of him, but after a few seconds a thought occurred to him.

_He can't outshine you anymore. He can't make countries angry so they can't mistake you for him and attack you. He can't be the cause of anymore arguments. And the best thing? The best thing is that now he'll never forget you._

Slowly, a wicked smile panned across Canada's face. France approached him, cooing about how it was okay; about how it was just an accident.

"Or was it?" Canada smirked, cocking the gun and aiming it at France.

"Mon Dieu! M-M-Mattieu, please, s'il vous plaît, don't do zis! I'll-"

Wordlessly, Canada swung his arm and his eyes toward Poland, pulling the trigger and sending a bullet into his head.

"It's a pity, he was always so self-involved... I'm actually quite a good shot, considering I don't use these much, aren't I, Papa?" With a grin, he cocked the gun again.

"Mattieu, please..." France looked horrified, and it seemed difficult for him to wrench his eyes from Poland's body, but when he did, he looked Canada in the eyes. "You don't have to keep doing zis, Canada, it's not-"

Suddenly, Germany was there, knocking the Frenchman out of the way with a curt "Sorry, Francis." He went for the hand Canada was holding the gun with, but Canada jumped back, throwing his chair in Germany's way with the hand not holding the gun. Germany skillfully dodged the chair, getting ready to tackle Canada to the ground, but Canada fired a single shot into his head and he fell to the ground with a sickening thud. Italy, who was hiding under the table, screamed as he came practically face-to-face with Germany.

"Doitsu!"

Canada bent down to see under the table and sent a bullet into Italy's chest. "He shouldn't be left to suffer. Besides, he never shared his happiness with me." He then turned back to France, who was on the ground now, paralyzed with shock and stuttering.

"M-M-M-Ma-M-"

"Shhh," Canada cooed, putting a finger on France's lips. "Don't worry, you're last~"

France stuttered about something unrecognizable as Canada continued on his rampage, reloading a total of eight times. France began to wonder if maybe Canada had planned this; there was no way he'd just have a gun on him along with eight extra rounds of ammunition. A few countries managed to escape the building, and France tried to move, but he just couldn't seem to. After a while he quit trying and began to think about how this was his fault; about how he should have listened more to his Mattieu... Before he became so very _not_ 'his Mattieu'.

After many minutes, Canada came back to his _Papa_, gripping him by his once-expensive and stylish collar.

"Merci, Papa." Canada spoke to France in sweet French; a language of love. He grinned as he put the tip of the barrel to France's chest. "Only one more left, Papa. And guess who it's for~? You love him very much, you do. More so than anyone else. But he never really could keep you company, could he? He's so selfish... But don't worry, Papa. I'll get him for you~ Just one little bullet and you'll never have to see him again~ Isn't it wonderful?~" Suddenly, the wide, crazed grin on Canada's face was replaced by deranged rage as he shoved France away from him. "CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW, PAPA? DO YOU SEE ME? AM I STILL INVISIBLE?"

France tried to reply, but before he could there was another loud _bang_ as the bullet entered his heart and exited through his shoulder. The older man slumped and Canada caught his body, sinking to his knees with the extra weight. _"Can you hear me now, Papa?"_ Canada whispered in France's ear.

He sat there for several minutes, holding the Frenchman's body, as thoughts began to run through his head.

_They're all gone. And YOU killed them._

_N-No, I-_

_They had it coming._

_But they didn't deserve it!_

_Really? Of all the times you tried to speak; tried to do ANYTHING, how many times did they pay attention?_

_W-Well... That doesn't give me the right to kill them! They're nations!_

_Well now you get to take care of them, don't you? You can pay one last kindness to them. Which is one more than they ever gave to you._

_No... It... It can't be justified! Brother, Iggy, Papa... All my friends... They're all _dead! _They... They didn't deserve it... No one deserves..._

Canada began to sob over his _Papa_'s body, clutching it in his arms, the gun laying forgotten a little ways away.

Suddenly there was rapid banging at the door. "Open this door!"

Canada ran for the window at the back of the room, which was only a few meters away. Tears streamed down his face, but he was smiling. He threw open the window as the door was kicked in and several men in police uniforms surged in, guns aimed at Canada.

"Sir, please step away from the window and put your hands up!"

Canada ignored the men and stepped onto the windowsill, wobbling slightly as he turned to face his audience. He closed his eyes and tipped backward, feeling the rush of the wind in his hair and between his fingertips as he fell.

They'd never forget him now.

He whispered it to himself, one last time.

_"Can you hear m-"_

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><p><strong>AN: And that is how Canada achieved world domination.**

**...**

**Temporarily.**


	2. Stay With Me

**A/N: Happy birthday Jaxxie! Sorry it's a little late but I couldn't get a hold of Marty McFly to let me use his time machine D: Warning, it's in present tense, so it reads kinda weird. But it was intentional.**

**wowIhopeyougotthatreference**

**So here it is. I wrote a fucking Gerita for you. This is true friendship.**

**Also, in general news: I MAY be back. I don't know. It depends really. I WOULD like to finish all my fanfictions though.**

**The song is Kiss it All Better by He Is We :)**

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><p><em>. . .<br>He sits in his cell  
>And he lays in his bed<br>Covers his head  
>And closes his eyes<br>. . ._

Ludwig opens his eyes, staring at the prison ceiling for a moment before turning on his side restlessly. He draws his arms in front of his head and chest so that his thumbs are against his forehead and his eyes are on his wrists.

Anything but the blank cell walls.

They are perfect movie screens, perfect for watching- _reliving- _memories.

_"Stay with me..."_

The blond man sits up, walking to the opposite end of is cell from his bed. He turns his back against the wall and wordlessly slumps to the cold, hard floor.

_"Until I fall asleep..."_

He buries his face in his hands and closes his eyes, hoping to block out the memories, but instead only inviting them in.

_. . .  
>He sees a smoking gun<br>And the coward,_  
><em>He ran<em>  
><em>. . .<em>

He sees images in his head; flashing, lingering, screaming out his name.

He sees the awful monster of a man holding the murder weapon. He watches as he drops the gun, still smoking, and runs.

He hears his own thoughts, his own cries, as he approaches the body on the ground.

_. . .  
>And in his arms<br>Is the bleeding  
>Love of his life<br>. . ._

There is a blank gap of memory, and then Feliciano is in his arms, bleeding out onto his shirt and the asphalt. The sticky liquid is everywhere; in the smaller man's hair, on both of their uniforms, and most of all on the hands of the killer.

_. . .  
>And she cries<br>. . ._

_"Kiss it all better... I'm not ready... to go... It's not your fault, love... You didn't know, you didn't know..."_

_. . .  
>Her hands are so cold<br>And he kisses her face  
>And says<br>. . ._

_"Everything will be alright, _Feli."

He chokes on the words, tears clouding his vision. He holds the strangely calm man to his chest tightly, clutching Italy's hand in his as it loses heat and color.

Ludwig kisses Feliciano's forehead softly but urgently, water droplets pouring from his eyes.

_. . .  
>He noticed the gun<br>And his rage grew inside  
>. . .<em>

There is another black and another skip, and then he is laying Feliciano back down gently. He looks up and sees the gun still lying on the ground several yards away.

The fiery heat of anger swells in his chest.

He stands up quickly, expecting the asphalt to run from him and the stars rush to meet him, but instead all he sees is his cell.

The bar door opens as he looks around, dazed, and sees three armed prison guards there to pick him up.

He remembers then.

_"Ludwig Beilschmidt, representative of the Federal Republic of Germany, or die Bundesrepublik Deutschland, the Nation representatives of the United Nations here by pronounce you guilty of the voluntary manslaughter of Ivan Braginski, representative of The Russian Federation, or Rossiyskaya Federatsiya. This act was not committed in a time of war, and therefor must be handled as a human matter, not a national one. The hearing for your sentence will be held tomorrow at twelve p.m..."_

The voice drones on in his head, and he thinks about how ordinarily it would be his own voice making announcements for the Country Representatives's UN.

_Does that mean it's the next day? I wouldn't know... Nothing changes in a place like this._

He is escorted to the meeting room, and a familiar face rushes to meet him.

"Gil... Gilbert?"

"Luddy!" His brother tries to hug him, but is restrained by the guards.

"I thought you... You were..."

"They brought me back, bruder! I told you I was too awesome to stay dead!"

The realization hits Germany like a fist. _They're going to strip me of my nationhood._

His vision blurs, and he is back in that wretched alley.

_. . ._  
><em>He said<em>  
><em>. . .<em>

_"I'll avenge my lover tonight."_

He picks the gun up, clutching it tightly, finger already on the rigger. He runs into the night, only to be held back by several sets of hands.

"Ludwig! Luddy, are you okay?"

He is back in the meeting room, and all eyes are on him.

"Lud, you started screaming, and you tried to run off, are you okay?"

Germany shakes his head to clear his vision.

"I'm fine."

One of the most commonly used lies in existence.

The blond nation takes his seat, his mind wandering as the countries discuss his sentence.

_. . .  
>And she cried<br>. . ._

_"Kiss... it all better... I'm not ready... to go... It's... not your fault Love... You didn't know... You didn't... know..."_

_. . .  
>Now he sits<br>Behind prison bars  
>25-to-life<br>And she's not in his arms  
>. . .<em>

"You can't just do that! Not to a country! Not to someone... Not to someone who did so much for my brother!"

Romano's outburst startles Germany out of his memory. The Italian kicks and screams like a child having a temper tantrum.

"I hate... I hate that bastard, but I have to thank him!"

The blue-eyed man just sits there, eyes wide, but strangely not surprised as Romano breaks down.

"Italy, please, restrain yourself!"

_Italy? N-no... He is not... ...But... He is now, isn't he?_

The thought pains him. The fact that the world can just move on when his world was collapsing. _It isn't right._

"Just not the death penalty! Anything but that! Anything where I can see him every day, and thank him for being there for Feliciano when I couldn't!"

Everyone is shocked into silence. This was Lovino, the one who acts like he is stronger than everyone, the one who hates Ludwig's guts, the one who is arrogant and prided and is so hopelessly intent on humiliating Ludwig... And here he is, on his hands and knees, begging not for his own life, but for his enemy's.

"Would you do this if they had been killed in war? No! You'd accept it and move on! How is this any different?!"

"Because this isn't war, Ita-"

"Stop calling me that! I might represent Italy now, but fratello was the only true Italy!"

Arthur sighs. "Regardless, _Romano, _these are acts that have been committed as humans, and human actions are to have human consequences. This is the first time anything like this has happened, so all things are on the table. However, we will take your words into consideration-"

_"Stay with me..."_

Germany's eyes dart around, searching for the source of the voice.

_"...I-Italien?" _he whispers.

Germany notices Britain looking around too.

"Igirisu? Are you okay?" the Japanese man asks, concerned.

"I'm... I'm fine... I just thought I heard something."

_A... a ghost? If Großbritannien hears it too then it's not all in my head..._

To Germany, everything is suddenly blurry. He sees Italy's face, but it is as if that image is in front of the meeting room, like a transparent image over another, or seeing one's own reflection in a car window, but also seeing the landscape beyond.

And then he is running again, but he sees Veneziano's face, not where he is going.

_"Stay with me..."_

"No! I must avenge you! Stop... Stop standing in my way!"

"Allemagne!" Ludwig is shaken out of his stupor once again. "They've decided."

Germany nods his head in thanks to the French man.

_Another man that cared greatly for Feli... How many times will that night haunt me?_

"Ludwig Beilshmidt," it is Gilbert who addresses him, standing tall though his hands are shaking.

_Don't I get a chance to defend myself? ...Or did I do that already... After my outburst, they probably thought it better to leave me be... They probably think me insane. ...Or maybe they were already dead-set on my punishment?_

"You are here-by... st-stripped of your name and status as a country. You are to serve 30 years in a German federal prison, with parole. The representative of the Repu... Republic of G-Germany is now G-Gilbert Beilshmidt..." Gilbert's voice and body are shaking now, his face serious and even tentative for once. He was so excited to be back as a country, but he hadn't realized that it would be at his brother's expense.

Germany, or rather, Ludwig now, had seen it coming though.

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to care.

_So is there some sort of ceremony to strip me of my power? Or am I just mortal now? ...All the better either way, so I don't have to relive that night again and again for a thousand years._

_. . .  
>He couldn't bring her back<br>With a bullet to the heart  
>In the back of the man<br>Who tore his world apart  
>. . .<em>

_...Will I have to relive it forever? ...Of course, forever means considerably less now, but... Why can't it just leave me alone? Is it... Is it because I killed Ivan, or woul it have happened even if only Feli had died that night?_

_...It didn't help anything, I guess. All it did was make things worse. And I..._

_I..._

_. . .  
>He holds onto a memory<br>All it is is a memory  
>Hey, hey<br>. . ._

The flashbacks start again as he is taken away.

Ludwig is torn; torn between grasping the memories and holding them tight or shoving them away in an attempt to move on. But the memories want him as much as he wants hem, and eventually he gives in.

_"Stay with me..."_

_I... I left him..._

_"Until I fall asleep... Stay with me..."_

_I left him... to chase my rage..._

_"Stay with me..."_

By now, he is back in his temporary holding cell. He is back on his bed, curled up where he started.

_"Until I gall asleep..."_

He feels Feli's hand petting his hair comfortingly, but he questions it.

_"Stay with me..."_

_Am I going crazy?_

_"Until I fall asleep..."_

He begins to mouth the words, and then to chant them.

_. . .  
>He cries<br>. . ._

_"Kiss... It all better..."_

_What now?_

_"Stay with me... Until I fall asleep... Stay with me..."_

_What about when I get out of here?_

_"Stay with me... Until I fall asleep... Stay with me..."_

_Life as a human?_

_"Kiss... It all better..."_

_Or... No life at all?_

_"Stay with me... Until I fall asleep... Stay with me..."_

_...God, I'm so sorry Feli..._

_"Stay with me... Until I fall asleep... Stay with me..."_

He closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep as Feliciano's voice echoes in his head...

_"I'll stay, Germany."_


End file.
